


Visit

by SharpestRose



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-01
Updated: 2011-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:51:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharpestRose/pseuds/SharpestRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things change. Others don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visit

This time of year, the stretch of time between the end of the working day and the fall of night is long enough to set Bruce's teeth on edge. He paces his pointless office, loath to go home.

At home, the Case burns a hole in him.

There is a tiny _snikt_ sound and the two layers of glass on the window fall inward, as if pushed by the now-audible sounds of rush hour in the city below. Jason crouches on the sill, wearing his domino but not his helmet.

Bruce's office is seventeen stories from the roof of the building, and forty-three from the ground.

"Got any jobs in the mail room going?" Jason asks, standing on the ledge and jumping down into the room. Bruce hasn't turned the lights on. The shadows aren't deep enough to conceal Jason, yet. Just enough to shade the planes of his face into stark relief. "Some guy once told me that crime doesn't pay, so I figure I should have a contingency plan."

Not waiting for a reply, he steps closer to Bruce. It's just as he said it was: Bruce doesn't just think, or even simply know, that this is Jason. He feels it, in the core of every cell of his body, in the ache of his skin.

The kiss is hard and sharp, more a bite than anything else, clicking and furious and burning. The partially healed cut on Bruce's lip splits open again, the sting barely felt as Jason's thumb drags up the nape of Bruce's neck.

"Your hair's too short to pull," Jason complains against Bruce's mouth, his breath tasting like cheap coffee. So Bruce pulls Jason's instead, and feels the deep scratch made by the batarang give way in damp wetness. They're both bleeding now. Bruce thinks that might be the first thing that's made sense since all this started.

The sound Jason's mask makes when Bruce rips it off is a raw sound, red and sore, but all Bruce can think about is Jason's eyes, blinking as if light is a half-remembered thing. The skin of the lower lids is bruised blue-grey with exhaustion, the lashes spiked and damp.

"Jason," Bruce says, littering kisses over Jason's cheeks and forehead. "Jason... Jason... Robin..."

The shove is unexpected enough that Bruce stumbles back. Jason stalks over to the window, turning to face Bruce with a glare.

"No. Never again."

"Jason." He's only a few steps away. After the distance of years, it's nothing.

The carpet is soft under Bruce's knees as he sinks down in front of Jason. He feels like he should be praying, or begging, or pleading. His hands, endlessly trained in care and precision, feel clumsy and fumbling as he reaches for Jason's fly.

Then Jason falls too, kneeling before Bruce, eyes wild and bright. "Say it," he growls.

"Jason. R... Red Hood," Bruce manages finally, tongue thick.

Jason's mouth curls up into a smile. " _Now_ you're getting it."


End file.
